LEGAL DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY TRADEMARKS THEREOF.
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Hey everybody. Silverlocke980 here. Hope this doesn't go wrong...
I've had an idea recently. My own Harry Potter fanfic, " Harry's Madness", is a great idea, and I'm not abandoning it (heaven forbid! The fans would kill me!) but rather, taking another idea and making something out of it. There's so much in the Harry Potter universe.... how can you resist making stories out of it?
But I digress. I must introduce myself first. Many of you who will be reading this fanfic will be those who enjoy my Dark Harry story "Harry's Madness." To those fans, thank you for your support, and I hope you enjoy this story. But be warned; this is very different. For one thing, Harry Potter is not evil (though he isn't exactly good, either), and Malfoy actually makes it past the first chapter. Mostly because I want to play with him.... (evil chuckle)
To those who are new here, allow me to greet you. I am Silverlocke980, storyteller and talespinner extraordinaire, come from across all dream and nightmare to tell my tales. I do not claim to be a great writer- despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not boastful :)- but I do hope you'll enjoy this story. Prepare for something quite different from anything you've ever read before, though....
It starts the semester right after OoftP, and I do mean right as the Semester starts. Hopefully this time around my story won't confuse Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley...
And as they say, in showbusiness and on the classic anime "Big O", I do believe it to be
"SHOWTIME!"
Harry Potter
Even A Serpent
Chapter 1
First Day
On Train to Hogwarts, first day of new semester, train room 115. Morning.
Harry Potter sat down heavily in his seat, tactly ignoring his two friends as they glanced at him from the corners of their eyes. He had suffered much, these past few days.... but they really weren't days, were they? It had been several months since Sirius had died. And yet it felt like days. As if no time had passed since his godfather's death. Since one of the few ties still binding him to Good- to the right in the world- was split asunder. If not for those few others near him, for those that really mattered to him (Ron and Hermione and Dumbledore and all the others), Harry believed that he would simply drift off into darkness. Or maybe madness. He didn't know. Nor did he really care.
He sighed then, a deep sigh that came from the very soul of his being. Ron looked at him, and the brave young Gryffindor finally worked up the courage to say something.
" Are you all right, mate?" Ron said. " I mean, I know things haven't been going all that great, but still..."
" Still what?" Harry asked, and an unbidden smile came to his face. It was cynical, hard, cold, like the painted smile of a jester's face. " Should I still be happy? Still be cheery?" His smile broadened, and even as it did he realized it wasn't a smile; it was a grin, an honest-to-God demon grin, and as he turned this newfound companion on Ron his teeth glared in the sunlight from the open window beside him. " Should I still be a courageous hero? "Damn the torpedoes" and all that? Is that what you mean?"
" Harry," Ron said, turning his face from Harry (it was almost a flinch; the hardness and darkness rolling off of Harry could almost be felt), " I didn't mean like that. I meant..."
Harry sighed again, feeling his hardness drop from him like water sloughing off his clothes. His grin disappeared, and his face resumed it's somber aspect. " I know what you meant. And I'm sorry. It's just that..." He didn't finish. He couldn't finish. How did you describe, in pitiful and useless words, what it felt like to suffer as he did? To rage endlessly at all the world, to have no vent upon which you could unload your steam? To be considered different by all, either a hero or a fool, a madman or a legend? How did you tell your friends, particularly two such as this? One was caught up in her own wisdom and the other was a knight, a courageous and brave man who didn't even know he was courageous and brave. How did you tell them that this world seemed to mean nothing, that it all seemed a lie and a joke and a fool's game played with mortals? How?
" Nothing," Harry said, finishing as pathetically as he feared he would. Inwardly he cursed. There were just some things one could not say.
" We're sorry for your loss," Hermione began, trying in her own way to talk to him. Harry turned to her, his eyes shaded even though they lay full in sunlight.
" It's alright," Harry said, then turned his eyes to Ron. " Now. What has happened? You've sent me very few owls over the summer. Is there something else I'm being left out of? Like last time?... Being different is nowhere near as much fun as it seems. Tell me everything you know."
Hermione looked away at that; the memory of his rage in Sirius' house was still fresh in her mind. " We're not hiding anything from you, Harry," she whispered into the room.
" Sure you are." Harry grinned again, that serpent's smile gleaming out from darkness. " For my own good. For my protection. Just like last time."
" I'm not!" Hermione almost shouted, refuting his words, but Harry felt something different behind that. What?... What was he feeling? A sense that not all was revealed, that masks were being held up when he'd asked that they be cast down? Something beyond the words said? What was he feeling?
Harry turned his head and said no more. Before he did, Hermione would have sworn on her deathbed that his scar had looked longer.
" Harry, I'm coming clean," Ron said. Hermione looked up sharply when he said that, and made a soundless "No" at him. Harry saw it and ignored it. " I didn't send you many letters because Dumbledore asked me not to. I know you're probably mad at that..." He trailed off, waiting for Harry to explode, but Harry had turned cold to such things and kept his mouth shut. Ron continued, uneasy, waiting for the eruption he was sure would come soon, " and he did say it was to protect you." Ron spread his hands, palms up, in a gesture of appeasement. " I'm sorry man. But I just do what I'm told by me mum and Dumbledore."
" Something that may damn you," Harry said, looking out the window of the train at the countryside rolling by. He sighed. " Thank you, Ron. Truth is important to me.... don't worry about harming me. I have walked through the fires of hell itself. I have seen and dreamed of things that would rend others apart. I'm a survivor. Ever since birth, I have survived. First it was Voldemort; then the Dursleys; after that, Hogwarts and the world of Wizards. Regardless of the trial, I have survived. And I will continue to do so." He shifted in his seat, looking out the window, and to both his friends he seemed to have gained years of age in a second. The man looking out the window wasn't sixteen; thirty, forty, maybe, but not sixteen.
And then Draco Malfoy walked in. Harry looked over at him and almost grinned again. Ah, yes. He had been waiting for this.
" Well, well, well," Malfoy said, arrogant as ever, " if it isn't Harry Potter. What are you doing now? Still moping?" Draco gloated in his power. He knew nothing about Sirius, but it hadn't exactly been a secret that Harry was depressed. " Whatever for? Lose some award or special privilege with Dumbledore?" He chuckled again, the ephemeral pretty boy in blond. Behind him, ever present as always, Crabbe and Goyle chuckled too. Both stood outside the doorway, as if such a complicated device was too much for their small minds to figure out.
" I've lost many things," Harry said, that insane grin spreading across his face again as he looked at Malfoy. " In fact, I've lost almost everything I've ever owned. Why, everything has been taken from me. And that makes me realize something."
In the few seconds before Harry leapt to the attack, he whispered one last thing into the sudden silence of the room (and why had it grown silent? Did fear touch Malfoy's heart, at the sight of that grin?).
" Why do I care about anything?"
Harry leapt forward and slugged Malfoy across the right cheek, hard. It was a perfect shot. Malfoy recoiled, spitting blood from his cut inner cheek. Spluttering, he grabbed for his wand. Harry's hand shot out again, this time grabbing his wrist and twisting it. Malfoy let out another spluttered cry and dropped his wand. Still holding onto Malfoy's right wrist with his own right hand, Harry drove the palm of his free hand into Malfoy's chin. His teeth were slammed back together, and he barely missed losing his tongue to his own teeth. Dazed, Malfoy fell back. Harry held on, backhanding Malfoy in his already battered right cheek. The act caused Malfoy's already busted inner cheek to split wide open. Blood poured out.
Crabbe and Goyle tried to push into the room, but together they were too big. Struggling to enter, they could only watch as Harry continuing bashing Malfoy's face in. Both wore comically stupefied expressions on their faces, completely surprised that "weak little Potter" (as Malfoy called him in private) was capable of such a violent, brutal act. Their minds almost completely conditioned to go with whatever Malfoy thought ("Sheep", he'd told Pansy Parkinson one night, as they lay together in a secluded section of Hogwarts, " that's all they are, sheep,"), they were unprepared to either accept or deal with this new reality. Their initial reaction was their automatic attempt to defend Malfoy, and following that command was all they could focus on at the moment. To do more was to invite madness. To allow other realities their truths.
To have to think for themselves.
So, like all those souls who prefer to be followers, they were trying desperately to rescue their leader. He'd explain it all to them later. They were sure of it.
So long as he made it to that later, anyway.
For his part, Malfoy realized what kind of trouble he was in almost from the start. He had been deliberately pushing Harry towards this, towards combat, towards some act so heinous that it would get him thrown out of school forever. Malfoy had always known this day would come, though he'd always assumed it would be a wand duel, or maybe a weapon duel (weapons practice was starting this year for their class). He'd never expected to be fighting Harry without either of those things. Malfoy had always been an okay fighter, and a better fighter, this year, than most; he had deliberately went towards the darkest, most dangerous alleys of many Wizard towns for the purpose of getting into real fights and proving his worth. So long as he had a weapon, he felt confident, strong, powerful; but now that he was unarmed, he found that he couldn't trust his body. He lashed at Harry with his free hand, but felt nothing but air greet his closed fist. A knee rose into his stomach, and he let out a very unmanly cry. He freaked then, flailing and striking at random, and when he felt Harry's iron grasp leave his right hand, he continuing flinging his limbs out. He connected with nothing.
Harry had let go of Malfoy's hand to slip back, and as he stepped back he saw Malfoy's left hand soar towards his face. Harry grinned and moved his head in plenty of time to dodge Malfoy's fist. He looked at it as it passed him, marveling that for some reason it seemed he could just watch it, that Malfoy was moving so slowly that Harry's slightest twitch could dodge his blows- or counter them. Harry struck out with his right fist, marveling at how good the impact felt. In a life where the winds of change blew constantly, this feeling of solidity, of purpose, of control in his own hands, was perfect. Harry struck again and again, feeling the force resilent in his own body, the strength that was his to command, a strength that was just his own and was not dependent on outside factors.
Harry discovered that he rather liked this.
At this point, Crabbe and Goyle managed to finally get in. Running up like the big oaf he was, Crabbe swung his fist in a hammerblow, arcing it through the air. He intended to bust Harry's brains out the back of his skull. Within seconds of impact, he froze, Hermione having drawn her wand and Stunned him. Goyle charged up, but before he could reach the fighting pair, Ron had tackled him to the ground. The brave young Gryffindor and gigantic Slytherin fought on the floor, twisting and turning. Goyle had the obvious advantage, but Ron was fighting for a friend, and intended to fight like hell. Soon, both were Stunned, Hermione having fired indiscriminately at both of them.
" Hey! Hermione-!" Ron said, feeling the effects of the Stunning spell. Goyle, at the moment on top of him, wasn't helping. Ron knew that the bastard had to weigh at least a ton, maybe two. It was getting very hard to breathe.
" Sorry!" she exclaimed. " I didn't mean to hit you... Oh!"
Hermione stared at Harry, her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open with shock. She couldn't beleive what she was seeing.
" Harry!" she shouted at him. In the doorway outside, several stewards and attendants had come running at the sounds of struggle, and as they ran into the room all stared in amazement at Harry Potter.
Malfoy lay slumped against a nearby wall, blood pouring from his right cheek. Harry was standing back from him, body clenched. His arms were held up in a boxing pose, his muscles flexing so hard that the veins showed up loud and clear. Harry was not impressively muscular, but at the moment his muscles looked enormous. He was glowing. His eyes were focused on Malfoy, his face empty of all emotion save concentration.
He struck.
Later, observers would report that Harry Potter became a blur, that all they saw was a shadow as Harry attacked Draco. And for most of them it was true. But Hermione saw a different story. Her eyes, which she'd trained to notice even the smallest difference or deviation in any material she looked at, allowed her to see what Harry had really done.
Harry rushed across the floor, his fists lashing out faster than the eye could follow. Energy rippled off him, throwing arcs and streaks of light into the room that dissipated so fast that all they left on the eye was a contrail. An afterimage followed Harry, producing the blur that so many bystanders recalled later. He struck again and again, unconsciously imitating Dudley in his boxing poses (Dudley had recently become something of a champion boxer, and Harry had watched him train many times) unleashing a simple "one-two" combination he repeated endlessly. Malfoy's face bounced again and again as Harry punched him.
Then the stewards fired their wands, and Harry knew no more.
Harry awoke to the white walls of the infirmary of Hogwarts, a sight he was far too familiar with. It seemed that he ended every semester here... or at the very least spent a great deal of time during those semesters here. Harry turned his head to the left, to look about himself.
" You've gotten into quite a mess, young Harry Potter," a voice spoke from behind his head. Harry turned to look at the speaker.
" Even I must say I was shocked at what you did to Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore said, from his position in a small chair next to Harry's bed. As always, he wore a look of slightly befuddled happiness... but his eyes revealed the wisdom he tried to keep secret from the world. Right now, the eyes also had a half-hidden part in them... what was it? Harry strained with all his mind and soul, but could sense nothing else, like he had when Hermione had lied in the train. That had been a weird sensation, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. What was it? Had he really been sensing her lie? Or had it been just his own delusions? Harry put that question off for another time.
" What did I do to him?" he asked, looking Dumbledore straight in the eye. He honestly did not know. Harry had not thought he was moving fast at all; he just thought that Draco had been slow. He did not realize how fast he'd actually been hitting Draco.
" You would not know, of course," Dumbledore said, in his slightly solemn, old man's voice, " what you called forth, fighting in the train. That would, in fact, have been one of your first lessons this year, in the Weapon Arts class. It's a quite popular training course, really."
" Weapon Arts?" Harry asked, trying to sit up slowly. His head immediately set up a painful ringing, and so he lay back down, where the ringing settled down into a throb and then disappeared.
" You may wish to watch your head," Dumbledore said amiably. " Three train stewards hit you with Stunning Spells at almost the same time. Madame Pomfrey is very good, but the aftereffects are almost impossible to cure without great amounts of bed rest. As I was saying, Weapon Arts is a class we introduce to our higher classmen when they reach your grade. Most Wizards choose wands as their weapon, for the simple fact that it's the easiest weapon to use. And for people like myself," Dumbledore chuckled, tapping the pocket in his robes which contained his own wand, " there are few other things which can properly channel our power. Wands are designed to channel pure magical force, and nothing else. Because one does not have to study actual fighting techniques when using one, they are a simple and expedient weapon to use." Dumbledore had switched to speech mode, and Harry let himself ride with it; his voice's ups and downs made an irresistible music that did not draw the listener down to sleep, but rather to total awareness of his words. Dumbledore's speeches stayed with you. " But! They are not the only weapon to use! There are many, invented by Wizards long before Muggles ever thought of them; swords, axes, hammers, flails..." Dumbledore trailed off, indicating that the list went on and on, then said, " But there are a few distinct Wizards who choose none of these weapons. They fight with their bare hands, using their bodies as weapons to channel their magical force. And you, Harry Potter, unwittingly used that force last night."
Harry wrinkled his brow, confused. " Huh?"
" Muggles call them " Martial Artists"," Dumbledore answered. " There are many different styles of unarmed combat, but most of them can be traced back to a Wizard ancestor. In Asia, it reached it's heights of growth. Muggles eventually copied the techniques, but they lack the magic needed to call up the powers the techniques were designed for." Shaking his head, Dumbledore laughed. " Did you know, for instance, that the Animal Styles of Kung Fu were originally named after the spirits they summoned? The Tiger style, for instance, summoned a ferocious tiger spirit. The Eagle style, on the other hand, called up an eagle spirit to grapple with the opponent. Each style was named after the force it summoned."
" So I'm a martial artist, huh?" Harry chuckled. " Who'd have thought it..."
Dumbledore shook his head. " You are not a martial artist, Harry. Rather, you called up that power when you needed it... but that doesn't mean you are destined to use that power. I rather think you'd make a fine swordsman, myself."
Harry looked at him. " Really? Is that... my destiny?" Harry smiled, a cynical smile that touched only the corners of his mouth. " Or some other such thing?"
Dumbledore looked at Harry oddly for a moment, then shook his head (an extremely slight movement, one Harry was not sure he'd seen), then continued as if Harry had not spoke. " But that is beside the point. The truth is, Harry, you are in a great deal of trouble."
Harry grinned, his cynical worldview finally coming true. " Let me guess. Draco's run to his daddy and complained that big bad Harry Potter kicked his ass. And now he's demanding my expulsion in the Wizengamot."
" No. Although that almost did happen.... sometimes I think you have seen too much, Harry Potter."
" I probably have."
" Regardless, this comes at an opportune time. I was going to send you away, Harry, even before this happened."
" For my own good?"
" For everyone's good. I have a secret to tell you... a great secret, one I myself have only recently discovered. I found it in a secret room in the Headmaster's Tower. Give me one second to make this safe..."
Dumbledore said some words Harry couldn't follow, then snapped his fingers. Harry felt no different, but soon noticed that he couldn't hear anything coming from outside a small area around his bed. Dumbledore had soundproofed them.
" Now," Dumbledore said, pulling his chair up next to Harry's bed. " Listen to me. Long ago, the Four Headmasters came together to make this school. Each named a House after themselves. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."
" I know all this," Harry said.
" Hold on with me now," Dumbledore said, and continued on. " You know that each had their own view on how the school should be run. Godric preferred bravery in his students. Rowena liked the clever students, the ones always one step ahead of everybody else. Helga preferred those who were willing to work hard; dedication was the main selling point to her. And Salazar... he loved ambition. He loved those who would do anything, no matter how dark or terrible, to gain power. A thing that, properly controlled, is a great asset and no harm to any... but Salazar never really knew when to draw the line. He never knew which students would cross over into the Dark Arts... and even those times when he must have known, he never really cared."
Dumbledore sighed, then shook his head.
" Everyone thinks that Slytherin left the school because of disagreements with the other Headmasters," Dumbledore said. " That's not entirely true. Yes, he and the others had horrible arguments, and once or twice he and Hufflepuff almost came to blows- those two were always at odds with each other- but they always stayed together. Salazar, despite his ambition, knew the value of friendship. So, despite their rocky relationships, the four stayed together. Until, that was," and here Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect, stringing his audience along so as to emphasize his next words, " Ellen DeGray came along."
Harry looked at him. " Ellen DeGray? Who is that?"
" She was a student of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, emphasizing the past tense of the word, " an incredibly power-hungry young girl. So, naturally, she became a Slytherin. She was one of Salazar's star pupils. He taught her everything. She became like a daughter to him, and they soon became almost a fixture here- the old man walking down the halls, her running after him, blond hair flying in the wind..." Dumbledore paused, and for a second or two Harry saw hurt in his eyes. " Everyone thought she'd become the next Headmaster of Slytherin. Back then, there were four Headmasters, one for each house, instead of the one Headmaster we have today. She certainly seemed perfect for it. But then she did something so horrible, so wrong, that even today her name is not mentioned in any History of Hogwarts. Not even the illegal copies Hermione has stored in her bookbags."
" What did she do?" Harry said, wondering at this tale of long ago, told as if it were but a tale of yesterday.
" There was a Banquet the Headmasters had held, a celebration of Hogwarts' years in existence. Each Headmaster had brought along their favorite student- or in Godric's case, students, seeing as how he never could pick just one. Anyway, as they were eating, Ellen had asked if she could propose a toast. Slytherin, who had been having a grand old time, had thought it a marvelous idea, and the others agreed. As Ellen stood up to make the toast, they'd all raised their wineglasses in the air. None of them knew that Ellen had poisoned them all."
Harry gasped, caught unawares by this sudden declaration. " You mean she tried to kill ALL the Headmasters? Holy shit! Why'd she do that?"
" Because of greed," Dumbledore said calmly. " Ellen had brought the wine in herself, disguising it as an attempt to win favor with those there. She'd actually poisoned the entire bottle with Calim's Leaf- you don't know what that is, but let me assure you it is a horrible way to go. The extract of the leaf causes the lungs to bleed. You choke to death on your own fluids."
" Ugh."
" As those gathered there drank to the school's continued health, they all noticed a sudden rending sensation in their throats. All of them coughed and gagged, dying as the poison flooded their systems. Hufflepuff alone was immune. She saved them all that day, rising mightily to the task, casting Healing spells on her friends as fast as she could. Hufflepuff respected dedication, as I told you, and one part of that dedication was the will and ability to go through long, harsh training to acheive wanted ends. Hufflepuff had trained herself by taking small doses of many poisons, letting them slowly filter through her body, until she had become immune to them herself. Calim's Leaf happened to be one of those she was immune to. The other three Headmasters, due to their innate power, had some small ability to fend off the poison, and it gave Hufflepuff enough time to heal them. She saved her friends, but she was too late to save the students. Five people died that day. One from Hufflepuff, one from Ravenclaw, and three from Gryffindor. It is always your house that bleeds first and bleeds most..."
Dumbledore was silent for a while, pondering his thoughts, and Harry let him think. He wanted to hear more, and Dumbledore would reach it in time.
" Slytherin himself knew almost instantly who it was. Ellen had spoken to him often of her desire to eventually run Hogwarts some day, to make it a perfect school for pure Wizards and Witches. Slytherin had always voiced his support for this idea, and it weighed heavily on his mind that day. He ensorcelled her, and eventually she spitted out the whole plot to them. She hadn't drank any of her wine at all; merely watched as they all drank their deaths in a bottle. Hufflepuff's actions saved all the Headmaster's lives, a debt they never forgot and never quite repaid. In fact, there is an old line from a poem that says something about that... Would you mind if I repeated it now? It is stuck in my head, all of a sudden, and I don't think I can finish the story without saying it."
" Go on," Harry said.
" Three lives rescued from death's jaws,
Three lives owed, hence three laws.
All shall repay, in time of need
Hufflepuff, for her great deed.
From Ravenclaw, a coat of feathers,
From Gryffindor, a set of leathers.
From Slytherin, who owed the most,
A horn, a call, to summon a host.
That whenever she need, or call for friends,
Ever would they answer, and make amends. "
" I do not know what it means," Dumbledore said, " but I assume that it talks about some kind of present that each gave Hufflepuff. Though, I doubt that even as I assume it... There are some riddles that cannot be solved unless one already knows the answer."
" Indeed," Harry responded.
" Anyway, after Ellen tried to kill them, the four gathered together and sentenced her to death. Slytherin himself carried out the execution, tears streaming in his eyes as he cast Avrada Kevrada and took the life from her body. Back in those days, the Forbidden Spells were not Forbidden, and law was usually a matter of personal justice. She was buried in an unmarked plot several miles from the school. I've never been for sure exactly where..."
Dumbledore retreated back into his thoughts, then drew out of them to finish his speech.
" Slytherin left after that, taking his shame with him. Godric was the one who was most angry with him- and for good reason, too- but Rowena and Helga both felt that, heinous as Ellen's deeds were, they were hers, and not Salazar's. But he couldn't take that argument. He hated himself to the end of his days for his part in the murder of those five students. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff both tried to draw him back, to make it as easy as they could for him to be their friend again, and even Gryffindor eventually forgave him, but Slytherin could never forgive himself. And so, he took upon himself a great task, a task of redemption." Dumbledore reached into his pocket and drew out a set of cards. He placed them all on the bedsheets, and his words suddenly seemed to have gained weight and power. " The Four Headmasters had created something new, something incredibly powerful. Incredibly dangerous. And so they decided to hide their creations, where none could find them by accident and use them for dark purposes. Salazar hid them himself, taking the burden of their secret work upon himself so as to atone for his sins. He was greedy, and blind, mayhap, but in the end Salazar had been a loyal friend. That's what hurt him the most, I think; that his own blindness had hurt his friends. Salazar had been the oldest of the four, and had traveled more than the others. He found the perfect hiding spots for all the things they'd made."
" What things?" Harry asked, looking at the cards on the bed. Face-down, all had a strange design that integrated all the symbols and colors of the four houses in a strangely beautiful, flowing pattern. On each, the green snake of Slytherin was shown more prominently than the others.
" Spirits," Dumbledore whispered. " Spirits of elements. But not the ordinary elements, Harry, the elements of Fire and Earth and Air and Water... but the elements that make up our very souls. Spirits of elements without power themselves, but together with a Wizard...! Power beyond power. Strength beyond strength. Enough force to rule the world- or break it. Spirits, Harry."
And so saying, Dumbledore reached down and flipped over one card. On it was a picture of an endless blue sky, flowing over an eternal plain of grass.
" Sky. The Dreaming."
He flipped over the second card. On it, a small shield, gleaming in the darkness, stood and fought against the evil all around it.
" Shield. The Steadfast."
The third card was flipped by Dumbledore's aged hand. On it, a star, shining in the darkness, light against night, fought against the endless cold of space no matter what the cost.
" Star. The Brave."
The fourth. On it, two jester's masks, one laughing and one crying, looked out on an endless black waste as small ribbons of purple silk floated between them.
" Mask. The Changeling."
The fifth. On it, two great fangs opened in a black maw on a blacker field. Their white gleam was the only thing visible of the creature who bared them.
" Fang. The Raging."
The sixth. On it, a great crown, set on no brow, showed itself off to the world, gems glittering.
" Crown. The Proud."
The seventh. On it, a great stone artifice soared into the sky, light burning upon it. A single eagle soared through the night sky towards it, mouth open in a silent call.
" Hawk. The Seeking."
The eighth. On it, a night sky over a vast city was portrayed, with a single figure staring up into it. Rain poured down in a never-ending sheet upon the figure.
" Rain. The Lost."
The ninth and final card. On it, torn and rent rags lay on a cobblestoned street, torn and cut almost to pieces, holding together only by virtue of a few strong threads.
" Rags. The Wounded."
Harry stared at the cards for a minute, then looked up into Dumbledore's eyes.
" What are these?" he asked, feeling some great mystery and aura settle upon him. " What.... is this?"
" It is explained in here," Dumbledore said. " By the man who hid them." He pulled a book out of a pocket in his robes and handed it to Harry. It was simple and unadorned, bound in red leather, with a picture of a snake running up the spine. On the front, it said, simply, " Salazar Slytherin", in an old man's spidery cursive handwriting.
Harry opened it and began to read.
" Even A Serpent Can Bleed",
The Notes of Salazar Slytherin
Written While Hiding the Spirits
' I write these words under great duress. I am merely a man, and there are many things that we men cannot do. One of these things is reverse the past. I wish I could but...! There are just some things we cannot do.'
' But that is neither here nor there. I have not taken the task of hiding the Spirits upon myself to change the past, merely to atone for it. Likewise, I did not write this book to dwell on the past. Doing so will not help me at all; darkness is my only reward down that path.'
' I am recording this so that I may, in some small way, describe what I know of the Spirits, their hiding places, and their powers. It is small knowledge, little knowledge, and I doubt it will be of much help to future generations; but, in the end, it is all I can do.'
' I hope only that they can forgive me.'
' God help us all in times like these.'
' And may no one ever need these Spirits, nor call them forth out of greed.... for the power they wield is more than even I myself will touch.'
' Let us begin.'
- R & R please! And rememeber: this has no relation to Harry's Madness in ANY WAY! It's totally unrelated! And HM will continue to be updated, so don't worry, my friends! See you later!